


a quarter past wonderful

by mosaicos



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future Fish, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosaicos/pseuds/mosaicos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t need to be a five-star restaurant to treat your best friends to five-star meals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a quarter past wonderful

13:15.

The stir of butter. The twist of the whisk catching at the elbow. Garlic strong on his fingertips. Bread charring at the edges in the grill. Sirloin sizzling in the pan, a flip before a more gentle crisping sound. Washed lettuce. Sliced tomatoes. Finely diced onions and parsley. 

Everything became a familiar humdrum of sounds at 13:15, the clock’s hand ticking quietly to 16 and causing no change in his routine. Two or three clients chatting at the different tables kept him alert to his surroundings, separating him from his devotion to the process of food-making before him. 

Blue eyes flicker back to the clock on the wall, calmly ticking closer to 13:20, forcing him to take the meat off the pan and let it rest on a plate, juices flowing around the circle indent on the china. Two spoons of water steam at the contact with the warm surface, a wooden spoon his weapon of choice to stir the juices and crisp about, successfully managing to deglazing the pan. The liquid is light in colour and texture, and it’s enough for him to deposit a different cut onto it—a burger ground from quality meat, this time. 

A drop of sweat threatened to hang over his eyebrow and he twitched, managing a towel over his brow to avoid disaster.

Haru had demanding clientele; nothing could be short of perfect. 

It’s never on the dot, but whenever there’s heavy footsteps past the entrance at exactly (give or take) half past the hour, he hums appreciatively and quickly starts cutting into the rested steak on the plate, arranging it nicely over some cuts of rocket and silky, mashed potatoes.

“Yo, Haru!”

“Rin.” 

The redhead joins him at the counter, daring to put his elbows over the hanging and peering down at his work station. 

Navy blue, loose-fitting, secured gun, a low-hanging ponytail. Everything seems just as how it looked when he last saw Rin earlier in the morning; the same boring patrolling work of the day, as the redhead so finely put it often enough throughout his complaining rambles. 

“Smells really good. Stinks of garlic though, you know I don’t—”

“It’s for Makoto.”

“Aah,” the sharp grin widens as Rin (finally) pulls back and sits at an appropriate distance. “Where’s Makoto, anyway? He’s usually in first. He loves to eat, that guy…”

Haru considers letting Rin stew in his own talk, as he usually does because Makoto cuts in effectively to keep a conversation going, but Makoto’s not around this time. 

“Department meeting. He’ll be in a bit later.”

—it reminds him of the burger, which he decidedly flips in time after he passes on the plate of food towards Rin. Fork and knife follow, on top of a napkin neatly put beside the plate. Haru disappears momentarily to grab a hold of a tall glass of water. It’s not that Rin’s tastes are plain, or that Haru wishes to annoy him by offering him nothing else but water, but water truly is the best drink he has to offer. 

Besides, it’s not Friday, and none of them are closing shop early to drink a few bottles of beer in Haru’s upstairs loft for a night-in. 

“I’ll catch him then.”

And yet, as Rin eats, he doesn’t seem capable to keep his eyes off what Haru is doing; cleaning up dirty utensils, dressing the salad that is to go with Rin’s lunch, preparing Makoto’s burger with utmost care and precision. The constant looking annoys him, and it takes less than minute for Haru to express his grief.

“Are you this observant while patrolling?”

“Aa?”

“Bet Yamazaki does all the hard work. Catching criminals. That police dog does all the running.”

“Shut up, Haru. It’s a quiet town! The most criminal thing going on around here is your constant nagging! Don’t flatter yourself, I only come to lunch here because it’s halfway free— _oh my God_ —”

It’s typical of Rin to run his mouth while putting food inside it, a forkful of steak forcing him to stop abruptly and clutch at his fork and knife like he’s experiencing some culinary nirvana. Haru knows exactly how Rin likes his steak: bloody, tearing at the threads, melting into his tongue with little resistance, minimal marinating. 

“Serves you right.”

You don’t need to be a five-star restaurant to treat your best friends to five-star meals.

Makoto stumbles in with a bright smile, waving at Haru enthusiastically as he crosses the threshold towards the bathroom, straight ahead. The confused expression on his face must cue Rin to turn around and look back, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand as red eyes dart along with Makoto’s disappearing form. 

He twirls a whole 360 degrees on his stool before returning to his plate, eyebrows raised and a quiet whistle in his expression.

“Looks like it was more than a department meeting.”

What would Rin know? Haru would rather hear it from Makoto, whatever it was that really held him back. (It’s not to say that he isn’t aware and a little jealous that Rin and Makoto can communicate through the shared dispatcher channel, while any news appeared in Haru’s attention way later after the events had occurred.)

Makoto takes long enough that by the time he takes a seat beside Rin, Haru’s already placing his plate (one burger, one side dish of salad, two hash browns) in front of him.

“Hey, Rin!” a friendly bump of shoulders, Makoto’s smile wide enough to be contagious, making the copper grin too in retaliation. “It’s really hot out, isn’t it?” 

That’s when Haru notices the damp spots on Makoto’s blue shirt, likely from pooling sweat under his heavy (not to mention warm) firefighter uniform. There’s a tinge of ash lining over the brown mat of hair, too, and there’s a vice grip on his heart, because department meetings for firefighters surely don’t involve putting out fires? 

“Too hot for any real crimes to take place, at least. You’re half-covered in soot, Tachibana. Haru here said you just had a department meeting.” Haru was thankful for his friends’ abilities to voice his own concerns for him.

And, even though Makoto was just about to bite into his burger, he stops and meets anxious blue with calming green, before flickering solemnly to burning red. —and he laughs, the bastard, as if playing with both Haru and Rin’s worry. 

There’s enough time for Makoto to put his burger down and rub at his cheek, before explaining, “There was! But a department meeting at the local swim club. I had to go through emergency procedures with the workers and some of the swimmers there. We even did a controlled fire demonstration!” 

That explains the soot.

The three of them are past their university days. Haru met Makoto in this very same place, into their first year of university, while Haru worked as an intern. Makoto was always hungry and seemed to have a hard time preparing himself any meals worth his appetite while on his own. Haru wants to say it was pity that made him adopt this permanent client since, but the reality of things are that Haru enjoyed Makoto’s company immensely; they used to eat lunch together everyday (still do) and became acquainted with this home away from home together, learning to look after each other in the process. 

Rin came later, halfway into their second year. He was chasing a burglar who had just stolen millions worth of jewels from the (now-closed) jewellery store down the street, and the rookie copper (despite instructions from his commanding officer to stay in the patrol car) had tackled the unlucky burglar into one of the big display windows of the small cafe. 

Right into the cakes and pastries Haru had so delicately put together a few hours earlier. 

It had been a proper mess; between Haru angrily shouting at Rin for all the damage he had caused, the burglar getting red velvet cake stuffed into his mouth, the handcuffs slipping out of Rin’s hands, and Makoto slipping on whipped cream on the floor in an attempt to rush and help out. 

It would have been a bigger mess (messier than what it was) had the burglar managed to escape, but the trio somehow managed to subdue the perp, and Haru was very insistent in reporting a crime of his own witnessing to Rin’s commanding officer (despite the cake smashed into his face), against one particular copper, while Makoto tried to calm down an enraged Rin from (apparently) biting Haru’s hands off by means of handing out wipes for the leftover fondant and cream and glitter on their persons.

“It was plenty of fun! The kids had a lot of questions, and the manager was really grateful for the time we took to go there on such short notice.”

Rin had come back three days later, looking strange in his civilian clothes and grimacing visibly at the temporary plastic-paper replacement for the window, bearing an apology in the shape of strawberry shortcakes (Haru scoffed, Makoto was delighted) and his help that weekend to fix up the window paneling and chipping in for the costs.

“How grateful?” Rin tried to coax the answer out of Makoto, the brunet being too obvious in the fact that he was keeping exciting information from them.

(Ever since that incident, the three of them have been inseparable.) 

Haru’s blue eyes did indeed widen, a spark of excitement in them, when Makoto produced the three most precious cards he’s ever seen the entire summer, “swimming passes for the summer”, and Haru did drop the can of salt onto his working station as he held onto Makoto’s wrists, examining the passes, as if they were worth their weight in gold.

The other two didn’t even have to exchange a look, laughing loudly and wild, too aware of Haru’s more childish side whenever “swimming” and “pools” were mentioned.

***

14:15 came faster than expected, and Rin as usual asks for some takeaway sub until the end of his shift. The redhead returns from the bathroom and the exchange happens right over Makoto’s head—bag of food from Haru to Rin, the dollar note from Rin to Haru; there’s another of Rin’s broad grins present before he lets go of the money. Makoto watches impassively up at the hands above him, minding his own burger business.

“When I beat you in a race in the water later today, I want a discount on all my subs for the rest of the summer.”

“Assuming you can even keep up with me in the water.”

“I’ll have you know my father is a gold-medalist for the Japanese swim team!”

“ _Was_.”

“The title sticks, idiot.”

“Makoto. He called me an idiot.”

“Hhnm?”

“—you can’t be serious! Oi, Makoto!”

“Hmphhhh.”

“....”

“Being a gold-medalist swimmer isn’t genetic. It doesn’t run in the blood.”

There’s finally silence, as Rin lets Haru take his money and he steps back a few steps behind Makoto. He doesn’t resist and musses up Makoto’s hair some more.

“Yeah, not genetic like fish tails.”

Makoto nearly chokes on his burger, but even Haru chortles at that, Rin slamming his hand into Makoto’s back saving him from an early death.

Rin and Makoto: his first and very own friends in the human-dwelling world—his best friends, for as long as he can remember, having accepted him despite the offending secret that whenever he sticks himself fully underwater he does, in fact, grow a pale, shiny, scaly tail. 

“It’s my turn to bring the beer this week anyway. Makoto, give me a hand on Friday with that, will ya? Maybe we’ll finally get Haru shitfaced this week.”

“Ah, Rin, that…” 

“Go away, my best client is eating. You’re disturbing him. If he never comes back because of your badgering I’ll seriously file that complaint from three years ago.”

“Haru! It’s okay!”

Rin elbows Makoto on the shoulders however, a gentle touch, and salutes at the man on the other side of the counter. 

“Can’t believe you’re holding on to that still. I’m being bullied! —catch you guys at the pool later!”

And, regardless of it being uncharacteristic of him, Haru poses a loud and meaningful “take care” at Rin’s retreating form through the door. Because the biggest threat he suffers in the kitchen behind the grill is cutting a finger off, a task he can easily re-attach or re-grow if necessary; if he were to lose Rin to enemy gunfire, or Makoto to burning fire, he wouldn’t be able to replace them in his entire lifetime—on land and in water. It’s a gut feeling he gets.

“I—I should get going too, Haru,” with Rin gone, it’s quieter now, and Makoto’s voice breaks through his stream of thoughts like a steady rock in the path of water. “Since I’m out early my breaks on Tuesdays are shortened by half an hour…” 

“I’ll pack you a snack.”

Unlike Rin, Makoto is quiet in getting ready to go. He pays up front, placing the money on the counter, and reaches over to pull Haru into a one-armed embrace; like he’s more aware of the dangers of his job. 

“Hey, uh, since the pool’s closer to the centre of town, would you mind if I stayed the night? I imagine it’s going to be late when we leave, and I don’t want to bother Rin for a ride nor worry about the last buses to my place…”

“It’s fine.”

Makoto’s smiles are also different from Rin’s, though both strike him with how honest and genuine they are in their own ways. “Thanks, Haru. I’ll see you at the pool at seven like we planned, okay?” 

“Hm. Take care.”

***

Quarter past the hour on the clock was an important time for Haru. It’s the middle part of the day, when he gets to check that his friends are alright, halfway through their day at their jobs.

Back to slicing meat, chopping vegetables, crushing bulbs of garlic, marinating meat, decorating cakes—a smile now on his face, heart beating calmer.


End file.
